Leaving Normal
by LCFC
Summary: Set 6 years after Devil's Trap The Demon is dead and the brothers are seperated. Can either of them lead a 'normal' life.
1. Chapter 1

The carnival lights flickered on and all at once the park became a place of magic. The scent of popcorn, candyfloss and hot-dogs assailed the nostrils and wide eyed children came running with dimes and dollars clutched in their hot, excited hands.

Rides rose up against the night sky, soaring roller coasters; the Ferris wheel; dark, yet garish ghost trains. Then there were the booths; 'Guess Your Weight', 'Win a Cuddly Toy For Your Girl', 'See the Two Headed Sheep for a Dollar'. Some were strangely old fashioned, others up to date with computer games and arcades. Everything in the carnival was exciting, breath-taking and it was hard for even the oldest of residents not to feel some excitement.

The boxing booth was one of the biggest booths in the place and also one of the most popular. It held over 200 people and took the biggest amount of profit. It was there that Joey was headed along with several of his football buddies, desperate to prove a point.

Joey was captain of the high school football team, key member of the swim club, best right base in the business and king of the track. He did gym every day and was always on the training ground. He was tall and the chicks told him he had a good body and he always, always won. His best friend, Chet, had told him about the booth and from that moment he was determined to go to the carnival and make a name for himself. '**Beat our Champion and win $400**'. That was the challenge and Joey was more than up for it. Apparently this guy hadn't lost in four years, but that didn't daunt Joey, he was more than capable of beating some old boxer guy who'd had his fair share of good luck.

The booth was already packed and Joey's buddies had grabbed themselves front row seats. They hooted and screamed as Joey climbed into the ring, waving his arms around as if he had already made himself champion. The referee/master of ceremonies looked at Joey and smiled wryly

"Are you up to the challenge kid?"

"Of course" Joey pulled off his tee-shirt, revealing his finely muscled chest "This will be the easiest four hundred bucks I've ever made"

"Sure" the referee gazed into the baying crowd and picked up his mike "What's your name kid?"

"Joey Convey"

The referee took a deep breath and began

"Ladies and gentlemen – tonight's challenger – our local boy Joey Convey. If he stays three rounds with our champion and knocks him down – he goes away with $400 – so let's hear it for Joey Convey!"

The crowd roared and his buddies hollered some more. Joey bounced around on his toes, arms above his head. The referee nodded and once more raised the mike

"And now – our champion – lets give him a round of applause" All eyes turned to the door of the booth and watched, almost reverently, as their champion moved out of the shadows into the light.

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Joey had long stopped bouncing when the man climbed into the ring. Somehow the crowd's cries seemed more distant now and there was a sharp pain forming in his stomach. The man before him was no 'old boxer' running out of luck. No, this was a young man still in his prime, over six feet; bare chest lightly muscled, covered in the threads of old scars, leading down to a tapered waist and strong lean thighs. The man's arms were strong and capable, his clenched fists showing calloused knuckles. However it was the face that caught Joey's attention; This was not the face of a bare knuckled boxer, it was clean and unmarked with strong cheekbones and soft, almost womanly lips and those eyes, moss green and as cold as chipped ice, they stared at him hard for a moment and those pretty lips curved in a smile that Joey knew was mocking.

"Toe the line" the referee called out and the two men moved to the centre of the ring, almost eye to eye. Joey swallowed hard and he felt the man move a little closer, his lips against Joey's ear

"I can go easy on you kid" the man's voice was soft, but steely "One round and you can get out of here without so much of a scratch on that all American face"

Joey nodded and jumped back, wanting, suddenly to get out of the ring, out of the booth and, hell to it, out of the state. The man caught his panic and grinned, flexing his hands and stretching his neck, the amulet around his throat glinting in the bright ringside lights.

The fight was over, really before it had begun. After a few ineffectual punches, Joey decided he would rather face humiliation than destruction and he spent most of the first round on his back foot. The champion kept to his word, jabbing him in the stomach or chest, his bare knuckles stinging and burning. Joey knew he was restraining himself and he prayed to god he would never feel those fists for real. The referee called it in the second and Joey stayed long enough to pick up his shirt and flee.

"Winner and still our Champion – Dean 'The Demon' Williams' the referee lifted the champions arm and the crowd went wild. Money flew into the ring and so did several pieces of paper. The referee grinned at the man beside him and bent down to pick up the money

"Good work son" he said, handing the man before him a roll of banknotes "Go and get yourself a beer, tomorrows Saturday, gonna be a big night"

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Dean never thought he would be able to replace the thrill and adrenaline rush that hunting gave him, but this had to come pretty damn close. He thrust the bank roll in his pocket and sat down on the nearest chair to put on his boots. The roar of the crowd was like music to his ears and it filled him with something that he couldn't quite put his finger on. He slipped a sweatshirt over his head, then waving to the crowd one last time; he left the booth and went in search of his trailer and a beer.

He opened the cupboard and pulled out the cookie jar. It was one of those novelty ones, shaped like a shark that played the theme from _Jaws_ when he opened it. He thrust the bank roll into the jar, on top of all the others, and then placed it back in the cupboard next to the rest. He now had a bear, Shrek, Mickey Mouse and a cow that mooed. Hell, he wasn't about to open a bank account and his money was safe enough here. He mused for a moment, wondering how much money might be in those jars, then he shrugged and moved from the cupboard to the fridge where a cold bud awaited him.

His trailer was the closest thing he had ever had to a home since his mom died. It was strange really, but it offered him security without permanency. He was so used to travelling that he had found it hard to stay in one place after...well after Sammy left and the carnival gave him something he had never really had before, family.

Hell, he fitted in here alright, with all the other freaks. He was at home alongside the bearded woman and the two headed cow. He didn't like to think too deeply about things these days and the folk who travelled with the carnival were much the same. Life was for living now, so it was a case of 'Live for today – let tomorrow take care of itself'. Dean liked that statement, fuck, he even swore by it.

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Six years ago they had finally killed the demon, but not without cost. Their father had died in the attempt and both had been mentally and physically exhausted. They had taken an extended vacation at the coast, after returning their father's ashes to Lawrence to rest next to their mother. It seemed strange, to just lie and think about nothing, but Dean found himself beginning to like it. Now the stress and strain had gone from Sam, he was better company and, together, they had trawled the bars of Orlando, getting drunk and hitting on women, something he thought they would never do together.

Then, suddenly, it was over and Sam was packing his things and talking about Stanford. Dean couldn't handle it, didn't know what to do or say. He didn't want to lose his brother now, he had no purpose without him, but hell, he was too proud to beg and Sam wasn't going to stay no matter what he said or did. In the end Dean had just let him go and he vowed that he would never, ever let anyone get close to him again.

At first Sam rang nearly every day. Dean never answered. In the end he changed his cell phone number and the calls stopped. Then it was letters, several a week, all addressed to Dean at their temporary address in Orlando. Dean returned the letters to sender and moved out. He had no car, no job and very little money. It was desperation that drove him to the carnival and desperation that made him take the labourers job that was offered there. He worked night and day, setting up booths, cleaning the rides, doing maintenance on the rides. The carnival folk welcomed him and didn't question and soon he was forgetting his past and looking to the future.

The old fighter that had ruled the boxing booth retired and Jim, the owner, had approached Dean and asked him if he would like to give it a try. $200 for every fight he won and if he lost, then hell, they'd have to think of something else, but Dean never lost, not once. He took to bare knuckle fighting like a duck takes to water. He was always fit and hunting had kept him alert. He had been trained like a soldier and this training had certainly paid off. Dean was now one of the biggest draws the carnival had ever had. Dean 'the Demon' – he laughed, wryly, to himself. What would Sammy think of his fighting name? He wondered if his baby brother would see the funny side – somehow he doubted it, doubted it very much. He finished off the beer and reached for another. Man, he was drunk more than he was sober these days, but who cared, he was happy – wasn't he?

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	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Saturday was always the busiest night of the week wherever the carnival was located. Parents, usually at work in the daytime, were eager to bring their children, young college students wanted to impress their dates and there was always a holiday atmosphere about the place as no one had to be up for work the next morning.

Dean prepared for his fights as usual. Jogging in the morning to remove the fug of alcohol and fast food, weights in the afternoon to build up muscle and a light salad (which he hated) for lunch. He usually forced this down him, knowing that after the fight he could have a burger and beer. Today though, he felt uneasy and he couldn't pin down the feeling. It had been a while since he hunted, but he still had his old instincts and he could sense something coming his way, something that wasn't pleasant.

That night the booth was filled to bursting, with Jim allowing some of the punters to stand. Dean could see that his 'challenger' was already in the ring and he heard the rumble of Jim's voice as he announced the name. He never took much notice of who he was fighting; usually it was college kids like the one yesterday or some drunken guy trying to impress a chick. Once or twice he'd met a hard one, but he'd always come out on top. He heard his own name being called and the music that announced him being played and he sprang into life. Moving down the aisles, he could feel the vibration of the crowd through to his toes. They were loud tonight, stamping, yelling. Maybe his challenger was going to be tough this time, fuck, he could do with some real competition.

He climbed into the ring and grinned at Jim who winked back "Toe the line" he cried and Dean moved to the centre of the booth, lifting his arms above his head, coming face to face with his challenger. As their eyes met, Dean's stomach clenched and he felt as if he had been hit hard in the gut, before any punch had been thrown.

The man was taller than him by at least four inches and slender. His body was finely muscled and Dean could see the indents and scars across his flesh. There was no mistaking the hair either, a little longer, a lot shaggier, but still brown and still messy, bangs almost obscuring the man's eyes which gazed at him, void of any emotion. The mouth curved a little, dimpling one cheek and Dean saw the glint of gold in one ear as his challenger cocked his head to one side, taking in every aspect of what he saw.

"Sam" Dean wasn't even sure he had spoken aloud, but his younger brother didn't acknowledge him. He stepped back, his heart thumping, unable to comprehend. "Jim, I can't do this, I can't fight him" he was aware of his voice sounding panicked and he hated it, hated to show weakness at such a time. Jim looked horrified and shook his head.

"You have to" he let the mike go and stepped back to ring the bell for the first round and Dean found himself gazing across the ring at the brother he hadn't seen for over four years.

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Sam was quickest of the mark and he flung a punch solidly at Dean's head; the older man checked back for a minute and ducked, the punch falling ineffectually short. Dean could see that Sam meant to do this and he felt a sudden rush of anger, flinging his fist at Sam's gut, trying to get the taller man to duck his head. Even as he flung the punch, he knew it wasn't going to connect. There was some sort of force field around his brother, acting as a barrier. He saw Sam smile slightly "_Missed me?"_

Goddamn it, Sam had spoken to him, he had spoken to him without even opening his fucking mouth. He realised that the words inside his head had a doubled edged meaning and he found himself back against the ropes as his brother moved forward, his knuckles catching Dean hard against the jaw and knocking him back.

The crowd roared, seeing that this fight was turning more than a little nasty. Dean felt the blood forming in his mouth and he spat hard on the canvas of the ring. Thoughts rushed through his head 'Why Sam? Why now?" How had his brother finally found him? Why was he so intent on knocking seven bells of hell out of him? The rush of anger he had felt earlier become a tide and he bounced back off the ropes, fists failing. For a moment they failed to connect again and then, as if a switch had been flicked, he felt his clenched hand sink into Sam's gut. His brother went down and Dean ceased to think. He just hit, over and over, red rage and long pent up emotions spilling out of him and into his brother's flesh. He was aware of the crowd, their noise level rising with each punch and then he felt Jim pulling at him, hands sliding across his sweat drenched body

"Enough son, enough, you're gonna kill him"

He felt his anger subsiding and he leant against Jim's solid body. He was aware of the crowd, suddenly silent and he gazed down at his brother, laying still and quiet on the canvas.

"I think we are going to need an ambulance" Jim murmured and Dean threw up, the contents of his hated lunch time salad hitting the canvas just about the time that he did.

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They hadn't let him ride in the ambulance and he had a hell of a time at the hospital explaining that he was the patient's brother. Finally, they had let him into Sam's room, with promises to be quiet and not upset the young man who was still very weak and needed rest. He had two broken ribs, they explained, and bruised kidneys. He might also have a minor concussion and they would need to monitor it. Dean nodded, hardly able to believe that he was once again in a hospital ward, looking out for his little brother, looking out for Sammy.

Sam looked up as he entered and smiled weakly. Lying in the bed, IV in his hand, long hair brushed back off his face, Sam looked more like his little brother again. Dean stared at him, hard. He had been twenty two when Dean had snatched him from his 'normal' life at Stanford and still, in Dean's eyes at least, a chubby faced twelve years old. Now, he was approaching thirty and looked older, tired. Dean sat down on the chair next to the bed and watched the heart monitor, the drip, hell anything but Sam.

"I'm sorry Dean" Sam's voice was quiet "I guess that wasn't the best way to say Hi"

"How did you find me?" Dean found himself studying the intricacies of the hospital quilt

"I've become an expert at finding things that are lost Dean" Sam snorted with weak laughter

"I thought you were at Stanford – hell – I thought you'd at least have your own law firm by now" Dean pulled at a bit of loose cotton and flicked his thumb over it "You know – what you always wanted"

"I left" Sam's voice grew even fainter and Dean felt forced to lean in, to listen "I dropped out after the second semester"

"Why? Why Sam? Couldn't you hack it?"

"Watch" Sam's hand came out and grabbed Dean's shoulder "I'm feeling a little weak dude, so this might not work so well"

There was a glass of water on the table in the corner of the room. Dean followed Sam's gaze and looked at the glass. For a moment there was silence and then the glass rose, wobbling, and moved, as if by its own violation and landed in Sam's outstretched hand.

"Jesus, Sam" Dean stared at the glass and at Sam "That's why I couldn't hit you earlier"

"Killing the demon didn't kill my 'gifts' Dean" Sam sounded suddenly bitter and Dean was forced to look at his brother for the first time "They just got worse – stronger – I tried to ignore it at first – I mean if you don't need to move an object – don't, but that wasn't the worst of it"

"Sam" Dean moved his hand and laid it over his brothers

"I was in a coffee shop, between lectures, and I saw this lady with her little girl. The little girl was smiling at me and I smiled back. When the lady got up to leave I mentioned what a cute daughter she had" Sam swallowed "She told me her daughter was missing, had been for two years, she was missing believed dead Dean and I saw her"

"What happened?"

"I saw her daughter, she was smiling at me, she mouthed these words – water, bridge, and bottom. It didn't make sense, but I told the lady anyway. The police found that little girl at the bottom of the Golden Gate Bridge, Dean, she'd drowned" Sam couldn't suppress a shudder "After that it was like all hell let loose, police, parents with missing kids, people with issues, they all descended on me, they all wanted something from me. I couldn't handle it, so I left Stanford and I...I started hunting again. It was so much easier, I could sense the things, see them, made them easy to catch" he stared at Dean, his hazel eyes empty and sad "But that didn't take away the visions…have you any idea Dean? What it's like to see a murdered child, looking for it's parents, wanting to go home" Sam choked back a sob "I've been so alone Dean, the only one who ever could really understand me was you and you didn't want to know me" his breath hitched and Dean could tell he was biting back tears "I'm sorry I left you again Dean"

Dean couldn't speak. He'd got even better at hiding his emotions over the years and he realised that he'd wrapped himself up so tight that nothing had been able to get through. Sitting here, holding Sammy's hand, being a big brother again, he realised just how much he had missed, how much his pride had cost him.

"I'm sorry to Sam, I should have called, returned your letters, I, I was an ass"

"I understood how you felt" Sam looked pale, tired "I screwed up Dean, I wanted to be normal and now I know I can't"

"Why now? Why did you come and find me now?" Dean squeezed his brother's fingers

"You were a little hard to trace – always moving. Then a couple of days ago I was passing through and I felt you" Sam smiled "I came looking for you and found the booth. I knew you wouldn't talk to me if I approached you, so I decided to make you sit up and notice me – hell of a fight there Dean"

"I could have killed you"

"No matter – I, I came to say goodbye anyhow"

"SAM" Dean shot up, realising that he was yelling "What are you saying Sam? Are you telling me you want to die?"

"I can't live like this any longer Dean" his brother sounded weak, exhausted, at the end of the road "I don't want to"

"Sammy" Dean leant over his brother's bed "Sammy – don't, don't. Look Sammy I'm going to have to go back to my trailer for a little while, but I'll be back ok – you'll be alright here Sammy – don't do anything – swear to me – don't do anything till I get back ok"

Sam sat for a moment, then he smiled, a shadow of his former smile, but a smile never the less.

"Ok Dean, hell, it's been over four years bro, I guess I can do without you for a few more hours"

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	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Dean opens his trailer and sits down, head in hands. He can't stop thinking about what Sammy said, about his confession, the fact that his baby brother wanted to die. It was bitterly ironic, Dean thinks, that he had been leading a 'normal' life – no hunting, no supernatural occurrences and his brother had been forced to leave the only life he had ever wanted and was still on the hunt. He could feel tears sting at his lashes and he gritted his teeth. He needed to help Sam, he needed to be with Sam, he needed to stop Sam from suffering, but how? He thought when the demon brought it that their life would be so fucking simple. How wrong he was, how wrong could anyone be?

He stood up finally and went over to the cupboard. He pulled out each of his novelty cookie jars and tipped the money out onto the kitchen work top. He counted the rolls methodically. Ten rolls in each jar, $200 in each roll, five jars. He had $10,000 dollars. He smiled wryly, it was the most money he had ever had in his life, hell it was the most money he had ever seen in his life. He picked up each roll and thrust it into his duffel bag. He knew now what he had to do.

He thought he should say goodbye to Jim, but he knew he couldn't, so instead he just left a note on the outside of his trailer. He thought he might feel something more than a tug of regret, but he didn't. The place had been his home, the carnival folk something akin to family, but he had his real family now and that was the most important thing to him.

He caught a bus out of town, deciding what to do first. He left what luggage he had at the bus station and decided that the used car lot should be his first stop. He knew he might have some problems finding just what he wanted, but hell; he had plenty of money and plenty of time. He grinned, his stomach clenching with sudden excitement, an excitement he hadn't felt for a long, long time. He had a purpose again, something to work on again. His thoughts kept moving back to Sammy, to that pale face and those dead eyes. He had vowed to protect his brother and it was a vow he was determined to keep.

He looked at the car with some satisfaction and handed over the money without question. Ok, so it wasn't his baby, but it was damn close and just to run his hands over the dark metal gave him intense pleasure. He didn't know how Sam had gotten into town, but he sure knew how he was getting out. He got into the driving seat and breathed in. The familiar scent of leather, polish and oil filled his nostrils and he laughed out loud. All he needed now was some dark paint and a little flair and this car would be his for a lifetime.

He shopped carefully, never one to be rash with money. He had spent most of his childhood and all of his adult years relying on stolen credit cards or money he had won hustling pool and he wasn't overtly sentimental over possessions. Most of the things he had owned in life were related to hunting in some way. Guns, knives, bottles of holy water. Fuck even the clothes he had worn had been brought for purely practical reasons. He had never owned a book or had a favourite toy, never had anything he couldn't live without. Even his car, his beloved Impala, had been tended because she aided in the hunt. He guessed the way that he felt was both the blessing and curse of a transient existence. He remembered, faintly, that his mom had collected Gund bears, shelves of the furry creatures, small ones, large ones. His dad had always brought one on special occasions. Birthdays, anniversaries, Valentines Day. The last one he had given her was a tiny blue one, to celebrate Sammy's birth. Dean felt his chest tighten. He hadn't thought about those bears for years, why did he have to remember them now. He pulled the car to a halt outside yet another shopping mall. There was still a lot he needed and he didn't have quite so much time now, anxious to get back to his brother.

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Sam was much as he left him. Still in the bed, still attached to the IV and monitor. The nurses assured him that his brother was fine and that they were keeping him in overnight to monitor him. She understood Dean's concern and, yes, he could stay the night, but he would have to do it in the hospital diner which stayed open 24 hours a day. He wanted to see Sam first and turned on as much charm as he could muster. Eventually she caved in and soon he was back at his brother's side, where he belonged.

"How are you feeling?" Even to his own ears it sounded lame and Sam gave a weak smile

"Rested"

"No, how are you really feeling?"

Sam looked at him and Dean could see the pain in his eyes

"Confused" he forced a grin "When I came here it was really just to see you before...before.." his voice stilled for a moment, seeing Dean's expression "Now, being here with you, well, I feel different"

"Different?"

"You give me a reason to live Dean" Sam's voice was soft, his emotions genuine "You always did, I guess I just didn't appreciate it"

"You get out of here tomorrow" Dean kept his voice careful, neutral "Plans?"

"Don't really have any. I hadn't thought beyond, well you know" Sam shrugged

"Ok" Dean leant forward and took his brother's hand "Sam – I'm coming back tomorrow to get you. Now is there anything you need. I guess you didn't walk into town and you must have some stuff somewhere, let me know where it is and what you need of it – understand?"

"Car's a bit of a wreck – brought it on my student hardship loan" Sam grinned "I've got some weapons, a few clothes – parked just outside of town in one of those roadside stopping places – guess I don't have anything much" his eyes flickered "I've missed you Dean"

"I've missed you too Sam" the hand in his squeezed harder and Dean saw that Sam's emotions were painfully close to the surface now "Just hang in a few hours more there Sammy, it'll be worth it, I promise"

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It was a long night. Dean dozed, drank coffee and dozed again, his head resting uncomfortably on the hospital diner's hard and unforgiving table. Finally, dawn broke and he got up to watch the sunrise. He felt as if he were having some sort of epiphany as he watched the sky light up and saw the first rays of sun pushing back the dark clouds. This could very well be the first day of the rest of his life and he was determined that it was going to be a good one.

Sam looked pale, but better. He was dressed and sitting on the end of the bed, waiting for Dean. When he saw his brother's face light up, Dean had to bite back his own emotions. They had a lot of catching up to do. Four years was a long time, too long and Dean wanted to know everything that had happened to his brother. He put his hand on Sam's shoulder and pulled him to his feet.

"Good morning Sunshine" was all he said.

Sam walked out into the hospital parking lot and froze. There, like some sort of metal ghost, was a black Impala. It stood, a magnificent creature, sunlight glinting on its tinted windows, just waiting, waiting for someone to drive it, to hit the road and get out of town.

"Dean?"

His brother grinned, a familiar shit-eating grin, and steered Sam round to the trunk. He opened it up with a flourish and Sam found himself looking at a veritable arsenal of weapons. That wasn't all; there were two duffle bags, bottles of water, several books, bags of M & M's and a laptop. Sitting on top of all these things was a tiny blue Gund bear, almost waving at him, it's black eyes smiling welcoming him home. Sam shook his head for a moment, closing his eyes and then opening them again, staring hard at the car and the contents of the trunk, wondering if he were dreaming or having a vision.

"Dean?" he turned to his brother, eyes brimming with tears "What?" But even as the question left his lips he knew, he knew what the answer was. He swallowed hard and then gave in, tears pouring unchecked down his face; he threw himself into his brother's arms and clung on for dear life, holding the only really solid thing that he had ever had in his life.

Dean's arms came up and he held his brother tightly. He could feel Sam's tears wetting his tee-shirt, his brother's body trembling, his hands clutching so hard that Dean swore he would have bruises in the morning. Then he felt his own walls crumble and he dropped his head down onto his brother's shoulder, breathing in the scent that was uniquely his. His own tears, when they came, didn't surprise him as much as he thought they would and he certainly wasn't ashamed of them. And there they stood, two brothers, clinging together over the trunk of a spray painted 69 Impala, their future mapped out before them in a way it had never been before.

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	4. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

The black impala roared into the motel parking lot and screeched to a halt. Loud music pounded through the open windows and the clerk in the motel lobby cringed, muttering to herself about the 'youth of today'.

The driver, all flash leather and James Dean grin, let the engine run and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, in time to the music. His passenger, a long haired boy, the sort who only wore tee-shirts and maybe had a tattoo, hung his head out of the window and grinned at her.

"Any rooms"

She tutted and looked down at the book, sure they had plenty of rooms, sighing she lifted her pen and called back

"What name?"

The engine and music stopped and the two men got out of the car, the older slinging his arm across the shoulder of the younger, his green eyes glinting mischievously.

"The Winchester Brothers" he leant towards her, flirting outrageously "And we may be here for some time"

"Yeah" the other man's eyes seemed to bore into her soul and if she hadn't known any better, she would have sworn he was reading her mind "We've work to do".

And with that, they took the key out of her limp grasp and, smooth as you like, arms around each other, they strode towards the room she had given them without so much as a backwards glance. She watched, suddenly envious of such closeness, as they entered the room and closed the door on her and the rest of the world, entirely focused, each on the other, making up for a lifetime of lost time.

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